Lovex
by Isabelle Adamowitz
Summary: Severus Snape dreams. He dreams he is the current potions master at Hogwarts, he dreams he is a wizard. He wakes up in a sterile world, a freelance scientist. So if it was all a dream, how come does Remus Lupin exist in this reality?
1. prologue

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters in this fic. They are the intellectual property of

J.K. Rowling (in case you didn't already know that. )

Rating: to be determined

_Author's note: Good day. It's been a while since I've launched into any major fic projects, so I might be a little out of practise. This is a novel experiment to me, since I've never really been interested in writing anything that had sci-fi elements in it. "Sci-fi?" I hear you say. Well, just a few elements. You'll see. I hope you enjoy reading this, as much as I enjoyed thinking it up._

**Lovex**

**Prologue** – "Drugs anyone?"

A light next to the door flickered. The door slid open soundlessly, letting a tired Severus Snape into his flat. He took off his shoes and dropped them in the cubby hole in the wall that slid open to this effect. He walked further in, ignoring the sound of the machine cleaning and polishing the already perfectly spotless footwear. There was an automatic mood sensor in the doorframe that had already registered its tenant's state of mind and in reaction to it turned the illuminated walls a soft calming shade of green, rather like the colour of grass in the programs that were shown in the recreational centres for the overworked. Snape pondered if he still had the energy to go to the nearest one before turning in.

Shedding his white work clothing, he put on a long black kaftan. Although this was generally the type of clothes worn by inmates at mental asylums, he had always been drawn to the non-colour and the feel of the fabric billowing out behind him when he walked quickly. Not that there were many occasions for doing so outside of the gyms he occasionally visited, when he felt too much mental strain.

Now he went to the kitchen. Apart from his job, the only other thing that he really was passionate about was concocting various strange and sometimes extremely fiddly dishes. It came naturally to him, and he always revelled in watching the small gas flame under the cast iron and copper pots he used. This was about as eccentric as he got.

It was a shame really, that he didn't entertain more often, Lucius Malfoy would say, on the regular occasions he stopped by. Snape only nodded at this.

He had never been good with people and he considered that he didn't really enjoy having relationships with them if they weren't justified by business or debt.

As he sat with his plate of highly fragrant, yet doubtfully nutritious food, he wondered if this aversion to others was an inborn character trait of his, or if he had been different before the Blackout, when he was a child and teenager.

The Blackout. He couldn't help wondering how such a stupid blunder could have been made. By anybody. It had occurred six years ago, and no one could remember exactly how. All that was certain, was that a research centre for neurology and molecular psychotherapy had grossly miscalculated the range of their memory modifying prototype cannon and had accidentally obliterated the memory of everyone living in Britain, Ireland and coastal France.

Anyone who was curious about their past was allowed to consult government files about themselves, if they wished and if these were available. Having been nineteen at the time the Blackout occurred, there were no files concerning Snape.

While most people took advantage of starting with a blank slate when it came to connections, it seemed that Snape, or at least his family had been in contact with a rather shady character by the name of Tom "Voldemort" Riddle. Apparently he had been in Yemen, supervising the planting of his newly acquired poppy fields.

Riddle had approached Snape and offered him a scholarship in a polytechnic institute, once the professors had re-learned their sciences, seeing as he seemed to remember Snape senior mentioning Severus' intuitive grasp of that particular kind of knowledge.

'So here I am.' He thought to himself. 'And here, is what is going to make this weekend much easier…' he reasoned as he opened the compartment in which he kept his IV equipment and going to collect the red box which sat in another cubby hole in the wall. He walked over to his bed, set up the IV, punctured the bag of liquid that would ensure his nutrition during his two-day sleep, and inserted the needle into his already quite bruised arm. He then opened the box, removed four pills, a higher dosage than most people could take, and swallowed, with in his mind the word written on each of the little white pastilles: Lovex.


	2. chapter one

**Chapter one** **– " Professor Snape, potions master"**

"That will be fifteen points from Gryffindor, Potter. That should teach you not to waste the ingredients I have supplied." Snape said stonily to an arrogant young boy with messy black hair and defiant green eyes.

Honestly, despite feeling a certain impulsive dislike for the boy, the dreaming Snape never quite understood why his wizard alter ego was so harsh on him. He certainly wasn't as wasteful as the two thuggish boys named Goyle and, what was it, Crabbe?

He always was somewhat surprised to see that his subconscious world of magic, in which he taught potions at a school named Hogwarts, seemed to contain a certain fictitious son of Lucius', whose name appeared to be Draco. 'Funny,' he thought ' that would be the kind of pretentious name Narcissa and Lucius would choose. But it looks like they never will have children…'

At the end of the lesson, as before in his drug-induced ultra-realistic hallucinations, Snape cleaned up what the students had missed, by waving his wand and speaking incantations that came quite naturally. He then would do some research, poring over magnificent and sometimes quite sinister leather bound books, of the size of paving slabs. This was indeed one of Snape's greatest fantasies, seeing as there had been hardly any books made, since the Blackout.

When it was time for wizard-Snape to retire to bed, and sleeping Severus wasn't surprised to see that he didn't do this until quite late, there was always the fascinating moment when he would face the mirror. For some reason he couldn't fathom, this version of himself looked as though he was in his mid-thirties, a whole decade older. The other, secretly satisfying thing, was that the wizard didn't seem to spend too much time on personal vanity or hygiene. This must also have been a very deep seated desire of his, given that he was constantly surrounded by either the sterile environment of the lab, or his artificial-intelligence monitored flat, which was immaculate. Not to speak of the strict hygiene and appearance guidelines everyone had to follow.

In an uncharacteristic moment of impulsiveness, Snape threw himself on his sturdy but rather ugly antique oak bed. He lay there for a while before turning over and taking a small bottle of sleeping potion from the bedside table and sipping some. Sweet oblivion. There was blackness for a while, and both Snapes were enjoying dreamless rest.

The next morning, Snape got up and had breakfast in the great hall at the staff table, as usual. He rarely talked to anyone, but had to constantly endure the babble of young professor Quirrel, whom he disliked for having gotten the job he had wanted. The man was a nervous and somewhat naïve fool in his opinion, and he could not quite understand why he had the idea that they had anything in common.

Then back to the dungeons for more lessons. Here was the thing that he probably enjoyed the most, namely brewing potions. He found a familiar kind of trancelike satisfaction that he couldn't quite place, but remembered from real life.

The next day, Monday, Snape woke up. The IV bag was nearly empty, and he felt his stomach grumble painfully. He got up slowly, having long since learned that he tended to faint if he solicited his body too quickly.

He dragged himself to the kitchen, wishing as he usually did on returning from the "wizarding world" that wands really did exist and the he wouldn't in fact have to make his food from scratch, because of how long it took and how hungry he was.

The walls of his flat had gone to a neutral cream colour, but sensing that he felt rather good this morning, they gradually turned sunny yellow.

While eating, he enjoyed the slightly greasy feel of his hair, which was considerably shorter than his alter ego's and the heaviness of the black kaftan, not unlike the robes his potion-brewing self wore. He wished he could hold on to these few details a little longer in the real world.

Knowing this to be prohibited, he eventually headed towards the bathroom, passing Narcissa. He murmured a croaky "Hello" and went on to get clean.

Narcissa was Malfoy's wife. Though at present, it was only her body he was talking to. She was in Snape's spare room, encased in thinly sliced alabaster with a quartz top panel, so as to be able to be seen if she should show any signs of life, other than breathing. This was one reason for Lucius' visits, the other being the replenishing of Snape's rapidly consumed stock of Lovex.

It was, in fact, an exchange. Lucius paid Snape, or Severus as he insisted on calling him, to research the possibilities of waking Narcissa. It appeared that, though she seemed on the exterior to be comatose, she showed almost no brain activity, despite being quite healthy otherwise. Lucius explained that she had fallen into this state after Riddle had given her his new drug called "Bliss". She has been the first ever to try it.

"The strange thing is" Lucius had said, brandishing the remains of his fifth glass of wine "that Riddle, or Voldemort as he prefers us to call him, didn't really act that surprised. I mean, he hardly ever shows any sign of emotion, but this was really weird."

Two years later, Narcissa had pretty much become part of the furniture "chez Snape" and Lucius kept urging him to have a little fun with some ladyfriends of his.

"I have plenty of fun thanks to you, Malfoy. I'm afraid I don't wish to depend even more on you where my freetime is concerned." Snape had answered curtly after the Nth proposal to meet a certain "Sheila".

"Come on, Severus, Lovex is good, sure, but you can't just dream your life away. And when's the last time you enjoyed a little friction of the more exciting kind that wasn't solitary?" Lucius sneered.

"Answering that is beneath me, and in any case, I would rather not "rub" in any way with someone called Sheila. Sounds like a cat litter brand to me." Snape replied disdainfully.

"She'd be furious if I told her that. Actually, I just might, for a laugh."

Coming out of the bathroom, Snape paused to look at Narcissa for a while. Would she even mind if she knew her husband was being adulterous? Somehow, the Malfoys had never seemed a particularly conservative couple to Snape, who was surprised that they had married so young in the first place.

He admired the long white blonde hair on either side of the pale face. What colour had her eyes been? He couldn't remember. He could vaguely recall though, that if he had ever been attracted to anyone, it was certainly her. Of course he had never really acknowledged this and hadn't worked out what the feeling was until about six months into her lethargy. On the whole, Lucius said that he emitted a generally asexual vibe. This didn't affect Snape as Lucius intended, for he was quite indifferent to this piece of information. That just meant one fewer weakness.


	3. chapter two

Chapter two – " Which is more interesting?"

Remus Lupin browsed the files at the information centre of his university. He had found five freelance research labs in the area, but only one conducting experiments that might be suitable subject matter for his thesis. The peculiar thing was that there seemed to be only one scientist operating there. Or perhaps the files hadn't been updated in a while. He decided to call a certain S. Snape, the name rang familiar in his ears, and inquire into perhaps visiting the lab.

"Yes" came the blank voice of a young man. This surprised Remus.

"Mr Snape?"

"Yes." Silence.

"My name is Remus Lupin, I'm a student at the faculty of Ethics at the University of Salazar. I'm planning on writing a thesis about the problem in dealing with the delicate subject of molecular psychotherapy. Seeing as you're the only laboratory listed in this field, I was wondering if I could interview you and possibly follow one of your employees in their progress."

"I am the only person working here." Came the somewhat annoyed reply.

"Oh." Pause "But, you will grant me an interview, won't you? At least that?" Remus tried.

"I'm afraid I have neither the time, nor the interest." Snape said and was about to hang up.

"No, wait! I'm sorry, but I'm afraid you really are the only lab that will do. Please at least explain to me what it is you are researching." Remus pleaded.

"Look here, sir…?"

"Lupin."

Snape froze. He hadn't registered the name the first time he had heard it. Warm brown eyes with rings under them came to mind. Lupin. The werewolf. Remus Lupin, the werewolf he disliked, but whom he had made a particularly intricate and fascinating potion for in one of his first trips with Lovex.

"Hello?" Remus said.

"Erm, pardon me. I'm somewhat confused. You said you are going to write a thesis?" Snape said, hoping that Lupin would speak long enough for him to see if he recognized the voice.

"Yes, that's right." Here Snape heard relief seep into Remus' voice "I need it to obtain my degree. I'm hoping to go into psychotherapy, but I've always had a fascination with the contents of medication for mental illness."

Snape felt a shiver run down his spine. It had to be the same person. The voice, the characteristics of speech were the same. He thought he could even picture the polite smile the student must me wearing.

Quite impulsively Snape decided that he couldn't bear not to find out if this was the same person.

"Right. Well, I'm a bit busy at the moment, but if you like you can ehm," here he heard Lucius saying he should entertain more " …have supper at my flat. I mean, if you don't think it inappropriate." Snape hastily added, not having ever invited anyone he didn't owe anything before. He felt quite foolish at the last sentence.

"Ha ha" Remus laughed nervously at this sudden and complete change of tone "Why not, yes, yes please. When?"

"This evening" and here Snape thought it would be best to not sound too eager "I'm afraid I won't be available for a while after that." He said, satisfied with what he thought had been a businesslike tone.

After having hung up, Snape collapsed into a decidedly uncomfortable metal chair at his work desk. His lab, not unlike the dungeon he "had" at Hogwarts was completely lined with containers. These contained various hallucinogens, sedatives, stimulants, psychotropic substances and raw materials, which they could be combined with. There was also a variety of apparatus ranging from ordinary centrifuges to a strange octopus-like contraption that registered brainwaves and brain activity. In the corner there was his desk, chair and a glass-fronted ventilated cupboard containing the white crows he experimented on. Lucius once commented that in his lab coat, Snape rather resembled them.

Presently one of the crows started cawing plaintively. Snape got up and saw that it was the crow he had given a sample of diluted Lovex to. The bird was coming to and probably felt as hungry as Snape normally did. Opening the door, careful not to let the others out, he picked up the convalescing animal and stroked its head. He had named him Lucius, out of spite.

He brought the crow over to the octopus contraption and adjusted it to bird-Lucius' head. Once he had started the machine and heard its gentle hum, he connected it to the printer. This device printed out the signals coming from the crow's brain and which were meant to go to the ocular nerve. Snape then modified the waves to pick up on the short-term memory. Once he was satisfied that he had gone back into the crow's memories as far as he could, he ripped off the paper and scanned it. While the data was loading, he fed the crow the remains of his breakfast, which he had intended on eating for lunch. He heard the signal coming from the screen connected to the scanner and hastily put away a somewhat grumpy Lucius.

He then watched the crow's most recent memories. He hadn't been certain that this experiment would work, so he was quite excited, not that this showed, as he sat down in front of the monitor.

He saw a mountainous landscape from high up in the sky, and then railroad tracks. The crow flew down and perched for a while a particularly old tree. Lucius-crow called out to a fellow crow and was answered. Snape, though being overjoyed at the success of his experiment was not very impressed, this could after all be what any crow could have seen anywhere, until he realized that Lucius had been bred in captivity. How could he dream of something he hadn't ever seen before? Snape fastforwarded. Then he stopped the image. He had just seen two somewhat disturbing things. One was Lucius' reflection in the lake he was flying over. It was black. The second thing was even more shocking. Out of the corner of Lucius' eye, Snape had seen the many turrets of Hogwarts.


	4. chapter three

A/N: Hello. Thank you to all the wonderful reviewers and all you dears who have put this story on their "alert list". They could review too. ;)

Here's the next instalment. So yeah, I know, not that science-fictioney, but hey, I'm a novice.

Enjoy. – Isa

**Chapter three – " Are you a murderer?"**

Snape wasn't fond of drink. So drinking himself into oblivion was not an option. He had stared at the image on his screen for an hour or so, his mind battling against itself to decide if he was going mad or not.

Snape had then stretched out on the floor of his lab and closed his eyes, thinking that if he was dreaming, it would just be a matter of waking up in the very same position in his bed. Unless of course he hadn't come out of his last Lovex trip and only dreamt the whole thing.

After several minutes on the cold hard and perfectly antiseptic floor, Snape decided that he was indeed awake and so was forced to take in all the strange things that had happened so far. He got up and went to the shelf labelled "stimulants" and randomly picked a pill from a jar. He now wished more than ever for the coffee machine he had been planning to install some day or other.

The pill made him feel lighter and made his mind more agile. 'Think' he said to himself. Remus Lupin, a white crow that thought it was black and had flown near Hogwarts, or at least some building that strongly resembled it. They had to be connected. Or maybe he was connected with the crow? He couldn't remember having performed any particular experiments on the crow that could have affected him by accident.

As his mind raced, Snape was shuffling to and fro in front of his desk. He couldn't bear the white clinical lab anymore. No, it was high time to go for a stroll. As he was his own boss, he was free to do this, but didn't indulge very often.

He left the lab, locking the cupboard that contained the crows twice, before resetting the entrance registration parameters on the door panel. This discovery, while not being of any use whatsoever when it came to Narcissa, was clearly something big. Did Riddle, or Voldemort as he preferred to be called, know that his drug could create dreams without drawing on the subconscious? Snape suspected he did. Perhaps Voldemort was testing him. Snape had always wondered at how readily Voldemort had loaned him the money for the lab and the equipment. At first he had just thought that, being a mafia head specialised in narcotics, the expense would not be too much of a financial commitment. Now he was wondering if there really wasn't more to it that so called connections.

Snape made his way to his usual delicatessen, a shady little boutique in the red light district of town, where he picked up the necessary ingredients for that night's meal. The young woman behind the counter winked at him when he asked he how much ostrich meat he would need for two people. He scowled at her.

The door to the flat slid open once again. He didn't place his shoes in the cleaning hole. Suddenly a siren went off.

"Shut up." Snape growled and went back to place the shoes in the cleaning unit, to stop the irritating noise. He would have to figure out how to unprogram that particular function. After all, he had no reason to be bossed around by a cleaning appliance.

He deposited the food items in the kitchen and went over to look at Narcissa. The next step in his experiments would be to try the octopus on her, although he doubted that it would work with so little activity pulsing through her brain. It was worth a try though.

Remus Lupin stepped into the elevator. He had brought an automatic voice transcriptor, but wondered if he would be allowed to use it. He couldn't help wondering why this Snape had changed his mind so completely at the sound of his name. Perhaps they had known each other before the Blackout and this was one of the rare people who remembered something from then. Anyhow, he wasn't quite sure what to make of the spontaneous invitation to Snape's flat. He would much rather have conducted the interview in the lab.

He came up to the door and put his hand to it. Nothing happened. Strange. The door's normal reaction should've been to identify him and call his name inside. Instead he looked at the wall next to the door and found a button. He pressed and heard a bell go off inside. 'How very strange.' He thought. 'Seems to be a little eccentric.'

Seconds later the door opened to reveal a young black-haired man with extremely pale skin and haunted black eyes. Remus knew that, despite the familiar sounding name, he had never laid eyes on this man, who was, at the moment, looking rather stunned. His eyes had widened and his eyebrows shot up. Didn't he realize how impolite he might seem? Remus was getting the distinct feeling that this fellow didn't see much of other people.

"Pleased to meet you professor Snape." He said, holding out his hand.

"What did you call me?" Snape answered with a shocked expression.

"I'm sorry, I only assumed that, having your own lab, you would be a professor. I'm sorry, it wasn't very tactful of me, if that's not the case." Remus said, unsure if he wanted to spend the evening with this strange man. Snape blinked and seemed to shake his head.

"No need to apologize." He said coldly. And then, weakly "I'm afraid I'm not myself these days." He appeared to have regained his composure, if that was what you could call his slightly grumpy expression.

"What's that smell? It's exquisite." Remus said, eager to change the subject.

"Come in, come in. It's ostrich in red wine and thyme sauce."

As Remus entered, he noticed that the walls were a bright turquoise. This colour generally was a sign of confusion or excitement. 'At least he isn't mad at me' he thought.

Half an hour later, the two men were feeling considerably more relaxed, having drunk the wine that hadn't been used in the food, and then some more, out of embarrassment. Right after leading Remus into the kitchen, Snape had programmed the wall colour to a neutral warm skin tone hue, to avoid the student being able to read him too easily.

Of course it had been the werewolf, and of course the latter had no idea who Snape was. So he clearly wasn't expecting to hear himself addressed in real life, as he was in his fantasy life, much less so by an ex-colleague of sorts.

Stripped of all the prejudices and invented past that went with his Lovex persona, Snape found himself actually liking this Lupin fellow. He was quite pleasant and did a fairly good job of hiding his unease when Severus had an unusual reaction.

But now it was late, and despite the comfortable, almost slightly ambiguous warm feeling in the alcohol sodden pit of his stomach, Snape decided it was time to get down to business. Especially since this would be the best way to justify staying in contact with Lupin. So he got up, quite steadily, for his post drug experiences provided good practise, and led a flush-cheeked Remus into "Narcissa's room". It took a while for Lupin to realize that this wasn't a mannequin.

"Oh Lord!" he muttered. He looked at Snape with the air of someone trying to hide their disgust. "You didn't kill her, did you, Mr. Snape?"

Quite amused, for it seemed that the student couldn't hold his wine as well as he could, Snape answered:

"I'm afraid not." He grinned. "No, and I'm sure you should be a bit more careful in accusing people of murder, especially when your thesis depends on them."

Lupin flushed a bit more, seemed dizzy and steadied himself on the alabaster and quartz case. He stared into the resting face.

"She's beautiful."

And it seemed that he had become transparent as the quartz, because he blushed and was about to speak when Snape said:

"No, she's not my wife. And yes, she makes a rather striking piece of furniture, wouldn't you say?"

Not knowing where this uncharacteristic amusement came from, he sighed and became somewhat more serious.

"My project at the moment is to find out, firstly: what her exact state is, because it's not quite a coma, and secondly: how to revive her. How this ties in with medication is simple: …" and he explained the situation to a not very attentive Remus, still enraptured by the slightly cruel looking but pretty creature in the stone coffin.


	5. chapter four

Disclaimer: See prologue

Author's note:_ Hey. Um, yeah, so it's been a while. I'd completely forgotten about my dear little fic, seeing as I started Uni in September. Actually that's none of your business, but I feel kind of guilty. So here it is, chapter 4. -Isa_

**Chapter four – " Crows are the modern guinea pigs. Or was it students?"**

Remus had shaken himself into sobriety after rinsing his face in the bathroom adjacent to "Narcissa's room". As fascinated as he was, there was no way he wanted to spend the night at this creepy scientist's flat. Not that Snape had offered.

During the evening, Lupin had had the impression that his host had forced the wine on him, rather as a means to lighten the mood, but it had left him cloudy-minded and heavy-legged, and somewhat sensual. He hadn't ever noticed how copious amounts of red wine could leave you both exhausted and slightly horny. Hence it was with relief that he left.

Snape had suggested he drop by during the next week to see his lab and possibly to serve as a test patient for a drug, so he could monitor some thing or other. Try as he might, Remus had not been able to pay attention. He had, however, caught that Narcissa, the beautiful coffee table, had been drugged into brain-death. Lovely.

As he made his way home through the LED light lit spotlessly clean streets, he wondered if he wasn't getting himself into potential trouble. Snape seemed like the type to not only experiment with drugs, but actually to also USE them. He certainly looked like he could've been a junkie, but then again he could've just been born with sallow skin and bags under his eyes.

Snape went to bed in an inebriated state of excitement. He tossed and turned and sweated, as if with fever. He was very much looking forward to giving Lupin some Lovex and monitoring his visions. He wasn't sure that his guinea pig knew exactly what he had just agreed to. Yet despite whatever scruples he might have had, had he been at all scrupulous, he felt he was getting closer to figuring something important out.

He woke up the next morning, hungover and grumpy. He decided to take the day off, something he hadn't done since the last time he'd had food poisoning. He needed to verify that this wasn't just an illusion. Thus, he made his way over to the closet, took out the IV and the pills…

Snape was standing in a circle of hooded men, he himself attired in the same fashion. From the cologne smell coming from his left, he guessed that he must be standing next to Lucius. In the centre, gaunt and almost glowing stood Riddle. He was standing over a limp human form, directing a wand at it.

"That hurt, Digby, didn't it? I'm sure you wouldn't want any more of that now, would you?"

The masked men, Severus included chuckled. Riddle turned around.

"_Crucio!_"

Digby writhed and screamed voicelessly. It seemed that someone had performed some kind of silencing magic on him.

"Enough. Now, Severus, would you please?" Voldemort said.

"_Vox."_ Severus found himself mouth and he realized that his voice sounded quite young and blasé.

Later at the Malfoy manner, Severus found himself in Lucius' room after having had supper with Mrs. Malfoy, Lucius' widowed mother. He had flounced languidly on his almost obscenely enormous bed, leaving Severus the settee at the foot of it.

"That was rather amusing. You enjoyed being the Dark Lord's assistant I dare say?"

Severus didn't respond and just tried to suppress the aftertaste of venison on his tongue. It had been the first torturing session he had attended and hadn't expected to play an active part. This Digby had been captured in the morning by the Lestranges, tortured all thourgh lunch and finished off before tea. On the whole Severus wasn't sure if he hadn't rather seen the gory killing after supper. Lucius seemed quite jaded.

"Ah, there it is, you silent pride." Lucius drawled. "You do think quite a lot of yourself, considering you're not much better than Digby."

"What, do you mean by that? I'm halfblood, yes, but it doesn't seem to bother the Dark Lord."

Snape woke that evening, disappointed at not having "dreamed" of Lupin again. He was starting to have mixed feelings towards how real he wanted the hallucinations to be. It seemed that his magic self had a few skeletons in the closet. On the other hand, if what he had "seen" was indeed reality, the so-called connection to Riddle would be explained. But why hadn't he told Snape anything in that case?


	6. chapter five

**Disclaimer: See prologue**

_**A/N**: Hello my lovely little minskies. Thanks for the reviews. Aren't you lucky that I'm still on vacation? Otherwise I wouldn't- no chance in heck -be updating so quickly since last chapter. On a completely differnt subject: 30 secs thinking time to commemorate Heath Ledger. The smart and talented ones do have an unfortunate tendency to die young. - Isa_

**Chapter five – "Back to the flat"**

Remus woke up with a hangover. It wasn't until he decided to skip breakfast after having smelled the unappetizing odour when opening the fridge door that he remembered that he had left his voice transcriptor at Snape's. Now he couldn't actually remember much of what Snape had explained about his research the night before, but he did know that he had had the presence of mind to record it. He also vaguely remembered agreeing to participate in an experiment. 'Not very smart to have accepted that offer while drunk, was it?' He thought wryly. He decided to call Snape to ask when he could pick up his forgotten possession. Predictably, no one answered. 'Must be at the lab.'

After having spent the day sitting in his usual café, meeting up with fellow students, Remus decided that he would not only try to pick up the transcriptor, but also invite Snape to a meal. He figured that this would be the most tactful way to buy some time to possibly weasel out of having Snape experiment on him. He called the lab, and no one answered. 'He must be at home already then, I'll just stop by.' So he made his way to the flat.

There was of course yet another reason for him to make such an effort. He had been captivated by Narcissa-the-coffe-table, as Snape had called her. He wasn't sure now if she hadn't been part of the strange alcohol-sodden dreams he had had.

He got to the door, and rang the bell. Having been programmed so as to let Lucius in for deliveries, the doorbell admitted anyone who had been let in "manually" before. So it was to Remus' surprise that he found himself facing an empty hallway as he was let in.

"Mr. Snape?" he called.

No answer. Exceedingly unnerved 'this man's door must be defective…' Remus mad his way to the room where, if he remembered correctly, his transcriptor lay. He went in the first door, not being certain of which one was correct, and found himself face to face with Narcissa's body. He moved forward. 'Not the right room.' He smiled to himself. After having gazed at her for a while, he went to look for the right room. The walls were cream coloured. 'He must not be home, unless he's asleep…' Remus thought.

He found his recording device on the real coffee table. Something was strange though. If Snape had indeed been sleeping, wouldn't he have heard him call out, when he first came in? He decided to check what he assumed was Snape's bedroom, just in case. There, connected to the IV, on a red single bed lay the strange young scientist. 'He's wearing black. How odd. He really must be somewhat mental…' Remus thought. He went up to Snape, thinking he would just tell him that he had stopped by.

"Mr. Snape" he whispered, touching the man's shoulder. No reaction.

Remus checked the IV bag. It contained basic nutrients, meaning that Snape wasn't on medication or sedatives. The unconsciousness must have been caused by something else then. Looking around, he saw the pillbox. 'So he is a junkie. Not that that's a surprise.' Suddenly, a certain annoyance came over him. Was Snape experimenting on himself? In that case, how could his studies be valid at all? Wasn't he also damaging his brain? And further more, was this the drug that he had intended to give him?

He decided to increase this IV flow, hoping that it would wash the drug out of Snape's blood faster and that he would come to. In the meantime he would, however, order dinner.

Snape woke up and thought he was hallucinating. What was that horrid smell? It seemed that the neighbours had ordered some kind of foul fast food, and in huge amounts, judging by the intensity of the smell in HIS flat. He made a mental note to cook sardines on the balcony in the near future to get back at them.

He sat up and removed the needle, still preoccupied with his the various questions his trip had raised. Then he noticed it: odd that he should have used up all of the nutrient solution in the bag. How long had he been out? Then, he shivered and turned around. Lupin was sitting in the corner, eating a slice of what seemed to be disgustingly greasy pizza.

"What, may I ask, in heaven's name are you doing here?" Snape meant to shout, but only managed to croak.

Lupin set down his food, a tired and wary expression on his face. 'Amazing how much he can look like his werewolf counterpart.' Snape thought, recognizing the drawn look Lupin had, whenever he had to deal with something unpleasant. He walked up to Snape and grabbed his IV-bruised arm.

"Is this what you're going to do to me?" He asked.

"Not quite." Snape answered darkly. "You haven't answered my question, what are you doing here? Who let you in?" And the he groaned. "Nevermind that one, I know how you got in."

Snape noticed Lupin staring at his pillbox intently. He felt he should explain himself, for he had understood that his reaction now would determine his being able to work with this intruder.

"Listen, this is for recreational purposes. I take very high doses of this drug, but that's because I'm…" he was going to say "used to it", but though the better of it.

"Addicted?" Lupin tried, helpfully.

"No!" Snape barked. And then "Well, yes in a manner of speaking, and you may be too. Look, would you just please go finish your food somewhere else and let me get my head straight, hmm?"

Lupin obeyed, but was puzzled. How could he be addicted to the stuff. He'd never touched drugs in his life! And anyhow, they were very hard to come by. Snape must have VERY shady connections to be able to sustain a habit. Then he remembered Narcissa's story. Right, well at least he knew which connections. That was already good. He finished chewing. He couldn't help smiling to himself remembering the face Snape had just made while asking him to eat elsewere. 'Must be a bit of a food-snob. He can bloody well cook though.' He heard faint noises of clothes falling to the floor and thought that he might go into the kitchen, rather than stay in the hall incase the junkie wished to shower, in which case he would have to go to a different room. He had no wish to see Snape naked. Well, that wasn't entirely true, it had been so long since he had seen anyone naked, so actually, he would be a start. Remus mentally slapped himself. Sure enough, he heard Snape's door open, stomps down the hall and the bathroom door open and close, then the shower. Remus decided to look through the spice cupboard. He found the usual cinnamon, pepper, salt and chilli, but also a variety of other weird things like mace, garam masala, harissa, ras el Hanout and other unlabled powders and even some shrivelled pickled plums.

He opened various jars of powders and smelled them and then it hit him, like déjà vu, but even harder, and somehow more real, as if not only sight, but all his other sense had been involved: a slightly damp and mouldy smelling firelit space. A scrubbed wooden table underhand. Fire smoke and crackling. Pickled things suspended in jars on shelves lining the walls around him. A goblet containing a harsh smelling beverage and then…and then, an orange flicker in black eyes half hidden by long dark, greasy smelling hair.

Before he could hold on to all this, it was gone, as soon as it had come, but he was certain now that he would not have had that kind of mind-image or whatever one could call it any other place than here and he knew that it had to do with Snape. He set down the still open box that he had been smelling when he had the vision. 'Good Lord, his madness is contagious.' Remus thought, rubbing the bridge of his nose. For something to do, he lit the candle 'How very bizarre' that was on the kitchen table. Suddenly he heard Snape coming into the room. He felt light headed.

"Your eyes! I've just seen them!" Remus cried out in shock and keeled over backwards.

Utterly bewildered, Snape bent over the unconscious Lupin and gently slapped him.

"Wake up, snap out of it man." He said more gruffly than he wanted. The practise of tending to an invalid was just so utterly foreign to him, after all. At a loss for anything else to do, he stretched Lupin out on the kitchen floor, so as to prevent him tensing up or hitting his head again when he eventually came to. It was then that he noticed the burning candle and the open jar and spice cabinet. He couldn't suppress a chuckle. This really did make Lupin seem like a bit of a hypocrite for berating his use of drugs. Lupin stirred and gingerly rubbed the back of his head.

"How are you feeling? Did you have any nice dreams?" Snape said with an odd kind of sideways grin. Lupin just blinked, so Snape went on

"You've just inhaled some of the very same stuff that I was on just a half an hour ago. It's a hallucinogenic, Lovex, I mentioned it the other night. This was the weaker version I was going to dilute and test on you, but it seems that you beat me to it."

Lupin just groaned and closed his eyes again. He was pretty sure that his feeling poorly had more to do with hitting his read very hard on the floor when he fainted than the drug, but felt that it would be better if he could unload as much of the blame on Snape as he could.

"What the bloody heck do you keep the stuff in your kitchen for?" Lupin said.

"Well, you'll notice the spice grinder, see, that barbaric looking copper thing with the handle? That's what I use to make powder out of the pills. I grind them by hand, which takes a long time, so I figured storing the jar for the powder next to it made sense. I'm not used to other people looking through my kitchen cabinets." Snape shrugged.

Lupin opened his eyes and was met by the gaze that had startled him so. The same black eyes with the same orange flame reflected in them, this time coming from the candle. But the face around them was cleaner, younger and more visible, with the short-cropped hair. With the warmth of the candlelight, there was almost something welcoming about the stark features. The eyes were glowing with curiosity and the warmth of humour from some kind of private joke.

"So does no one else ever come round here?" Lupin asked to change the subject. Snape thought a little before choosing to answer honestly.

"Not except for my dealer, and you'd have to pay him to anywhere near a kitchen."

"Right." Lupin answered. 'Well, that would explain a few things.' He thought.

Snape helped Lupin up and seeing him clutch his head told him that he could lie down on his bed. "I'm afraid I don't have a couch, I figured armchairs would always suffice." He said. And then the grin was back. "I remember having horrid headaches after my first drug experiences. That was before I got this flat though." And then, more seriously. "You mentioned my eyes, just before you fainted." Lupin nodded. "Did you by any chance see the rest of me?" Remus nodded "Yes. And the funny thing was that you looked different. You had…" "Longish greasy hair and quite a few more lines on my face." Snape said excitedly. Lupin's eyes widened. He sat up and the motion almost dislodged Snape from the edge of the mattress where he was sitting. Remus stared long and hard into the now barely distinguishable face, hidden in the dark of the room, for they had left the lights out, due to what was becoming a heavy painful throb in his temples.

"How do I know?" Snape said. He was trying to calm his racing heartbeat. He was sure that Lupin's experience corroborated his growing theory. "Because I've seen myself like that. I've seen you too. I'd seen you before you even turned up at my flat yesterday."

He heard Lupin's sharp intake of breath and heard his own, very rapid breathing. He could barely sit still for excitement. If only he could persuade Lupin to take more Lovex, record and see his visions and compare them with his own, there was a possibility that he could prove that the drug-induced hallucinations were an objective reality all on their own. And then…the possibilities were infinte.

Remus was listening to Snape's heavy breathing. He had felt him tense through the mattress. He wasn't sure what to make of the strange statement and the silence that now followed it. He must be dreaming still, yes, that was it. Absurd really, this situation; he in some stranger's bed with a concussion and, this madman with prophetic abilities. He tried pinching himself, but just felt a numb squeeze. He reached out to touch Snape's face and in the dark he felt it. Yes, well, it was warm, the eyebrows were coarse, as was the stubble, the lips dry and chewed, the cheekbones hard under the smooth but slightly slick skin.

Snape was suddenly pulled back to the here and now by Lupin's hand going over his face. He froze, shivers going up and down his spine. He knew that this was the result of Lupin's doubting that he was indeed awake - who could blame him? - for he had experienced the same sense of confusion before. Apparently Lupin was not only more sensitive to alcohol that he was, but also to other substances.

"I'm real, Lupin." He said, amusement lining the words.

"Of course you would say that." Remus said. Snape gently took his wrist and put the exploratory hand on his jugular.

"Concentrate. See, my pulse, it's there. Seems a little too realistic to be a dream, doesn't it?"

Remus felt the pulse. Yes, it did seem a little too real. He was trying to make sense of everything. If this was reality, then he had a few things to think over, it wouldn't all just go away.

Snape sat there. He couldn't tell exactly if Lupin believed him or not, but he still hadn't removed his hand. Snape was suddenly uncomfortable. He wasn't used to human contact, at all. He was torn between unease at the idea of this being somehow intimate and the realization that there was something incredibly reassuring and wonderful about the warm hand taking note of the fact that he was alive and real. He wanted Lupin's fingers to brush over him, like they had before. At the same time there was an invisible wall that prevented him doing anything about it. He was afraid.


	7. chapter six

_**A/N: **Hello. It's been a while, but no, I haven't forgotten this fic. I intended to go more into detail about a certain part of this chapter (don't be too impatient, you'll see), but I found it wasn't quite appropriate yet, if I wanted to maintain any appearance of them being anywhere close to realistic. Anyhow, my poor Remus is just about going nuts. He's the type of person who is quite average in this universe, seeing as he isn't a wherewolf and therefore he doesn't have the psychological resistance his other self has. Snape always was and still is not very well adjusted and therefore more open to new and unconventional things, I think. That might explain his being rather calm. Basically, they both just need a little love. :)_

**Chapter six – "Make up your mind. And unmake it."**

The moment had broken. Snape had got up wordlessly and left, while Remus remained to ponder the various considerations at hand or rest, whichever was easier. He buried himseld in the sheets that he knew to be red and imagined he was in some kind of cocoon. Gradually, the pain seemed to numb, and his limbs were heavy and warm. Almost without realizing, he surrendered to sleep.

It was like stepping through a door, and he found himself in a dark empty house. He knew at once that something about him was wrong. He looked at his hands and saw paws, furry and cruel looking and cried out in shock. But the cry was a guttural howl and he felt an inexplicable rage and savageness take over his mind. He swatted at the hangings on the nearby four-poster bed. 'Not enough relief' the raging thing inside him thought. "Howl" he scratched the floorboards. He claws didn't dig in as deep as he had wanted, so he went over to a wall and ripped what was left of the paper off. He kicked objects, delighted in their shattering and breaking noises. He knawed on doorframes, relishing the pain of the splinters between his teeth. He had no idea how long he was trapped in his nightmare.

Remus woke up to a harsh smell. He saw Snape put the lid back on the flask of nerve-clearing serum with one hand, seeing as he was sitting on his chest, restraining him and holding his face immobile. All the tension seeped out of Remus. Sensing this, Snape got off him.

"Why am I on the floor? When did I fall?" Remus asked.

"I'm not sure, but I came as soon as I heard my sheets being torn apart." Snape said.

There it was again, that strange humour typical in one who knows more than the person he is dealing with. It was almost patronising. Snape signalled for the lights to come on and Remus saw to his embarrassment that not only the sheets were in shreds, but also the pillows and his clothes. Snape had already gone to the closet and was about to toss him a black kaftan when Remus objected:

"No, I'm not wearing your black potato-sack, it looks too much like an asylum uniform."

"And after this display you still think that you aren't a little unbalanced?" Snape said, his eyebrow raised.

"I wasn't until I met you." Remus snarled.

"Careful now," Snape drawled "you wouldn't want to admit so readily that I have such a powerful influence over you, would you now? Besides, it has very little to do with me." He finished coldly.

They were silent for a while. Remus now noticed that the anger he felt seemed to be residual from the dream. He knew this, because suddenly he couldn't understand why he had overreacted. Snape was being a good host, even though he wasn't entirely blameless in this whole affair, and anyhow it was very uncharacteristic for him to be angry in the first place.

"I'm sorry. Besides, this is probably the only thing that will fit." Remus offered. This wasn't entirely true as they had roughly the same build and height.

Lupin caught the offensive garment and started pulling off the shreds of his sweater. Snape looked away, but his attention was caught by the exclamation of pain that followed. He turned around to see the student stuck in the robe with his arm at a funny angle. Snape went over and pulled it over his head.

"I must have done something to my shoulder during my..."

"Hallucination?" Snape finished. "Hold still, this is easy enough to fix." He cracked the limb back into place. "Now, clear up your mess, I'll be in the kitchen drinking wine. I'm not used to this many complications at once and my nerves are at their end. I'll expect you to replace my destroyed property at some point."

"Right." Remus answered thinking 'git'. He had almost begun to think of the scientist as a generous person, but he had slipped back into his socially inept self.

When Lupin came into the kitchen, he found Snape with his head on the table and a glass near at hand. He cleared his throat.

"Well, erm, I think I've trespassed on you long enough. I'll be leaving. Originally I just came for my transcriptor. Goodbye."

"No, you can't leave." Snape muttered from the table.

"I beg your pardon?!?" Remus sputtered.

"It's past curfew. In this part of town I can guarantee that you will be checked by the militia and with that nerve-clearing substance in your system, which they will discover thanks to the alcohol probe, you're bound to get into trouble. I'm afraid you'll have to stay at least for another four hours until the drug wears off." Snape said tiredly.

Lupin, exasperated, went over and grabbed the bottle and took a long swallow.

"Make that six hours." Snape said. Lupin hit his own forehead. 'That was stupid, he thought.'

"So tell me, did you by any chance dream that you were some kind of furry creature locked in a house?" Snape asked and propped himself on one elbow. He was staring Remus straight in the eyes and the latter had the unpleasant thought that his mind was being read.

"No." He answered. Snape just gave a dry disbelieving laugh. He decided to try another angle.

"Did you dream of me?"

"No!" Lupin said incredulously.

"Then how come were you tearing up my bedsheets?" Snape was amused.

"Alright, yes, I did dream I was a…a…"

"Werewolf. That was what you were. What you might really be."

Lupin just stared at him. Snape was conscious of the fact that he felt two different things for the man before him. Whenever he established the link to the dream Lupin, he couldn't help feeling a certain disdain or dislike. It was vague, but it was there.

At other times it was just a neutral feeling, sometimes bordering on sympathy because he was aware that his guest was completely at a loss. Now he looked at the student, and saw a potential acolyte. If he could just gain this man's trust… Remus met his gaze. For the Nth time in the last few hours they were staring at eachother, Lupin hoping for a non-verbal explanation of any kind and Severus for recognition.

Something shifted. Remus handed the bottle back to Severus. He filled his glass and Remus took it out of his hand and drained it. There seemed to be an uncertainty, an opening. Severus stood up and faced his guest. They were the same height. He tentatively took the hand holding the glass, pried it open, set the glass on the table and pressed it between his own. He looked away. He was still afraid, but less now, because it seemed that embarrassment was not as much of an issue anymore. Still looking away he put his face against Remus' and grasped the back of his neck. He breathed in. He breathed out. He felt eyelashes flutter on his cheekbone.

"I don't know what to do." Remus said whitely.

"Neither do I."

They embraced clumsily. It felt as if by pressing their bodies together hard, they might fuse and gain some better understanding of the strangeness surrounding these godless hours. They lost their sense of time.

When their knuckles had gone white, they pulled apart. There was latent violence in the room, as if, unsure if it were acceptable to themselves to acknowledge the experience, the best reaction would be to strike. Anything to legitimate the touch.

This time it was Remus who moved first. He pulled his host by the collar and raised his hand. He was still undecided between anger and the need for comfort, so he had let his restlessness take hold. Severus grabbed the hand and brought it to his face. That decided the course of their subsequent actions. It seemed agreed that they had chosen the non-violent way. They finished the wine.

That was when lust entered the game. They were both aware of this as they sat across from each other at the table. The walls were caught between the two moods in Severus. They were going back and forth between scarlet, the colour of fresh blood, and Remus realised, Severus' sheets and teal, the colour of apprehension. Snape got up and deactivated the walls.

He stood infront of Remus, who looked up and found beauty in the objectively unattractive features.

"There, I'm handing the reins over to you. You are probably more experienced in this kind of thing. I trust your judgement." Severus told Remus in an uncomfortable tone.

Remus pulled him down and, predictably, kissed him. Once, twice, three times. Severus got to his knees and Remus slipped off the chair. They awkwardly got as close as they could, their knees briefly meeting. They sat on the checkered kitchen floor and resumed, hoping that it would become comfortable and natural. It did. They forgot themselves and gave in to the feel of eachother. Nevermind the cold hard floor, nevermind the turmoil. Bodies provide such good distractions.

The alcohol had helped provide attraction and it in turn fed on the kisses, growing. Their bodies responded accordingly. Now all that mattered was being one. They moved over to Narcissa's room, all the while trying to find new angles and movements. They bit and clawed. They found themselves not wearing anything, suddenly together on the alabaster and quartz coffin. On seeing the white face, Remus froze. He stared at the feminine features in the case and then at the flush-lipped wild-eyed man beneath him. This was too bizarre. He turned and left the room. Snape groaned in annoyance.


	8. Chapter seven

_Disclaimer: please refer to previous chapters._

_A/N: Well, hasn't it been a long time? I do realize that most of you will have given up on this fic by now. Nevertheless, I've decided to go on with it. I had originally written a different version of this chapter which didn't quite satisfy me. In the end I kept putting off re-writing it and, one thing leads to another, forgot about "Lovex". Well, I'm baaaack._

**Chapter seven – "Make your bed, then unmake it."**

Snape heard Lupin's footsteps heading for the door. He wasn't quite sure what to say. He realized that it would actually be preferable for them to spend some time alone and calm down, but there was still the curfew to take into account and Snape wasn't quite sure that he would ever see the student again if he let him get away. Under no circumstances was that acceptable, not when he had so much to gain from Lupin. But he hadn't a clue at how to prevent his leaving.

"Stop!" Snape barked.

Lupin, who was at the door, turned. He looked at Snape in disbelief. Surely the nutter wasn't about to call him back in some kind of a degenerated parody of a lover's quarrel. He was about to activate the door, when he remembered.

"Oh, right. The curfew" he acknowledged, with dread in his voice.

He faced Snape, who had had the decency to throw a towel from the bathroom adjacent to Narcissa's room around his waist. Remus looked down at his own clothes and noticed that he had put on the black caftan over his damaged clothes. He really would have got into big trouble if he had left now. Why, he probably wouldn't have lasted five minutes in the street before he got arrested for flouting the appearance code and then, he shuddered, they would have discovered the drugs and alcohol in his blood and Snape's DNA in his saliva. Yet, Remus couldn't bear not being able to leave.

"I'll wait in the hall. I'm certain that I won't be bothering anyone" said.

"Suit yourself " Snape said, in a tone that was the epitome of deadpan. And then, with a touch of regret in his voice:

"I apologize. This isn't what I'm used to."

Remus looked at his shoes. He felt shame more than anger now. It had been the drugs. Most certainly. How else could he explain his rash and repugnant behavior. He slowly raised his eyes to meet his host's, but Snape had gone, noiselessly. This annoyed Lupin somewhat. 'Why offer an apology and not wait to find out if it has been accepted?' he thought. He made his way to the door and it opened before he had time to exit the flat. There he stood face to face with a man with shockingly light eyes and hair. The man looked at him in utter surprise, first taking in his features and then his caftan.

"Severus! We need to talk!" shouted Lucius.

"Not now. Just leave them on Narcissa's box and bugger off."

"I don't think so" Lucius said, to Remus' shock, dragging the student with him into the kitchen. Snape sat there with a pack of cooling fluid on his forehead, pinching the bridge of his nose. His face was drawn and his eyes were half-closed, his whole body was tense. Upon seeing Lupin he managed a smirky grimace and drily said:

"Back so soon?"

"Look, I have nothing to do with your dealer, or with you for that matter. Tell him to let me go at once" Lupin shouted indignantly.

"Oh is that right? You're in further that you can fathom, my friend" said Lucius.

"Do unhand him, Lucius" Snape said tiredly. And then he added "Lupin, I'm afraid you must stay here until we've settled whatever is bothering Lucius, since it seems to concern you. Why don't you make yourself comfortable in Narcissa's room. Take an armchair from the sitting-room."

Realizing that he really had no other choice, Remus did as he was told. As he sat down next to the alabaster case, he noticed hand prints on the quartz top surface and the smudged traces left by Snape's skin only an hour ago. Proof of what they had been about to do. What _had_ they been about to do? Remus shuddered at the thought. It would have been wrong altogether. Wrong gender, wrong place, wrong situation, wrong person, wrong everything. And yet, he had been the initiator.

Meanwhile Lucius was pacing in Snape's kitchen. Snape was calmly stirring water in a copper pot with a thermometer. The water had to be exactly 62.3 degrees Celsius for him to brew a perfect cup of matcha. He decided to ignore Lucius' nervousness until he said what was on his mind. The water reached the ideal temperature and Snape ladled out an amount of it into a small bowl. He then dropped in a little of the powdered green tea and whisked it in until it became frothy. He inhaled the bitter aroma of his brew and cautiously sipped at it. A wave of pleasure went through him: This was one of the most soothing remedies for an excess of alcohol and/or drugs that he knew.

"Severus, I can't believe you. You shouldn't be so calm. Don't tell me you didn't recognize that Lupin fellow" Lucius said. Snape just raised an eyebrow. After a while he said:

"The only thing that unnerves me is that you know him."

"You know that I use the stuff occasionally. I just didn't expect to see him here. Riddle can't possibly want…" and he stopped.

"To test him as well?" Snape tried. "You've just given away so much information. What's wrong with you? Have you been drinking?"

"You know I don't drink when I'm on my delivery route" Lucius said.

"In any case, I might have been more impressed by your foolish blabbering if I hadn't already suspected what you are hinting at."

Lucius stared at Snape. He wasn't sure exactly how much Snape knew. He was aware that Riddle had informed Snape about certain properties of Lovex, but he didn't seem to have explained the general plan they were the key part of. Even so, Snape's being smart may well have lessened the gravity of the breach of trust he had just committed towards Riddle. After all, not just anyone was supposed to have access to such dangerous information. The real error, Lucius realized, lay in his appraisal of the degree of trust that Riddle placed in Snape. 'That's right, squirm, you bigheaded git' Snape thought. 'You might have realized that I wasn't in Riddle's inner posse if you hadn't spent all that time talking about yourself or cars and prostitutes.'

"Lucius, I have everything under control" Snape finally said. "He's here by chance. I didn't seek him out, he found me. He doesn't know anything. Actually, I think he's more interested in Narcissa than me" he added.

"So he's not on Lovex?" Lucius asked.

"No."

"Then what is he doing here at this hour?" Lucius said, suspicion beginning to edge onto his face.

"That is none of your business. Now leave, you're intruding." Snape stated.

Lucius didn't comment, but didn't look very pleased. After all, he should have suspected that Snape was queer. It seemed obvious now. He shuddered and wondered if his dashing looks and irresistible charm were responsible for Snape's refusing to meet Sheila. 'Can't fault the man for having good taste' he thought, with a shrug.

"I'll, er, leave you two to it then" Lucius said.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" Snape asked.

"I think I'll take this week's delivery of Lovex with me. Just to be sure that your _friend_ doesn't take any _by accident_."

As he watched the door close after Lucius, Snape thought 'Well this makes matters complicated, doesn't it.' He went into Narcissa's room to find Lupin asleep in the armchair, his neck angled in a way that promised an ache when he woke up. Feeling certain that he would be able to face this problem much better after some rest, he went to his room, lay down on his bed amidst the tattered sheets and dropped into oblivion.


	9. chapter eight

_Disclaimer: please refer to previous chapters._

_A/N: Enjoy! And if you do, please think of my poor ego and leave a nice little review._

**Chapter eight – "Electricity"**

It was Wednesday morning and Remus' features were grim. It had been a little over a month since his bizarre encounters with the Snape fellow and he couldn't stop pondering.

He had slept in Narcissa's room until mid-morning and upon waking, had had the foul sensation of having an old sports sock in his mouth in place of his tongue and a neck ache vicious enough to make him see little moving spots. He had nevertheless hurried out of the flat without leaving so much as a note. Remus had assumed that he would the just get on with his life, find another subject for his thesis and forget about the strange young scientist altogether. Blessedly, the latter hadn't made any effort to contact Remus, who had resumed his classes at university, gone out with his mates and spent hours in the information centre, poring over registers containing information about big pharmaceutical companies. So what if he didn't have insider information on innovative new experiments in the field he was studying? He would just get basic information on legal, over-the-counter drugs, and that would be that.

It wasn't until about a week earlier that Remus started feeling decidedly confused. He had had dreams again. He knew that these were just like the hallucinatory dreams he had experienced after inhaling some of the powdered Lovex: They were dark and violent, and he ended up doing serious damage to his one-room apartment. The worst part was waking up: he was starving, parched and aroused. This phase lasted three nights, and on the third, Remus had managed to wake himself up as soon as his dream-being – yes, a werewolf, he grudgingly admitted- started tearing wallpaper of the molding wooden walls of some kind of shack.

He got up, and went to the window, entered the required code that would prevent the alarm from going off, and opened it. He breathed in the damp-smelling air. It was raining very lightly, and he could hear the drops shattering on the pavement six stories below. He looked up at the sky and saw the moon wreathed in a halo of woolly cloud. Was it full moon? It was hard to tell, as its outline was blurred, but it was plain to see that it was quite round. That was what had shocked Remus the most. Was it really just a coincidence that he dreamed of being a werewolf at full moon? He had then thought of Snape, wearing his superior and slightly jagged smile. Remus' gut seemed to welcome the image by clenching in a nastily pleasant way. He had slid his hand in his hair, gripping it and pulling it taut, so as to hurt his scalp just enough to distract himself. He was no stranger to waking up semi-hard, in fact he had never given it any thought, but this was ridiculous.

So now, Remus went about his daily business in a grumpy sort of half-concentration. His friends said it was just a phase and bought him extra drinks. He carefully avoided drinking any wine, thinking that it would remind him of what he already constantly thought about: there had to be a way to get answers to his questions. He knew that the Lovex he had taken accidentally had triggered the dreams by acting as a stimulus. This meant that they weren't related solely to the use of hallucinogenics, but were somehow rooted in his subconscious. This haunted him. He had started studying psychology in an effort to recover some knowledge of his past, before the blackout, as he had no recollection of having any relatives. He had of course contacted the two other Lupins in London, but upon meeting them it had been clear that they were not related. So here he was, isolated and curious. And now, in the light of recent events came the questions: Could the werewolf be a metaphor? His dreams were about destruction: Could this be a veiled image of some crime he had committed in his youth? Could he possibly have murdered his kin? Was that why he had been alone for as long as he could recall, which admittedly was only a small part of his life?

And of course, the fastest way of finding out, was Snape.

Severus, having found, upon waking, that Remus was gone, had in fact, felt rather relieved. He was quite sorry to have lost touch with someone with whom he knew he had some kind of past in the "Lovex reality", but he was beginning to think that, since he had seen Lucius and Remus in that alternate reality, it would only be a matter of time until he met someone else he recognized. And then, of course, there was the shame. What really HAD been going through his head when he had accepted the possibility of… no, he wouldn't even think the word… with… by… nevermind. He knew that it had been the first time that he had let his lust get the better of his rationality. Then again, it had been the first time that he hadn't been alone when it happened… In any case, this was a whole new realm of questions that needed to be put "on the backburner", to use one of Severus' favourite culinary metaphors.

Further research on crows, and Lucius' unwillingness to sell him more Lovex had confirmed that there was certainly, if not a parallel world, at least some kind of underlying structure that could be accessed, whilst under influence. So Severus had made an appointment with Riddle. He had nervously chewed his thin lower lip while he stood in the foyer of the hotel Riddle had appointed as their meeting place. The décor was striking, with its high ceiling, marble floor, shiny black walls and the sunken fireplace which was in the centre of the lounge and caught the eye the way a fountain or zen garden normally would, but with an added dimension of class and power: Financial power. He had stepped up to the desk and the receptionist had told him that Riddle was already waiting for him in the smoke-room. Severus had followed her directions and come to a giant alcove of sorts, separated from the hall by a tall glass wall. By the looks of it, the atmosphere inside must have been unbearable, thought Snape, as there was an opaque curtain of smoke on the other side of the glass, making it impossible for him to see who was inside. He had placed his hand on the touch-sensitive panel in the centre of the glass door, and it had opened to reveal that the smoke was actually trapped between the outer pane of glass and a second one, leaving the interior of the room clear. There Riddle had sat. He had simply beckoned for Severus to sit on the armchair opposite him and looked at him for a while. He had first drawn out a white box and then a green one. He had then asked whether Severus had any unfinished business and upon confirmation, handed him the white box. He had then told Severus to get his affairs in order and come to him when he felt that he had the time to go on a prolonged journey with him. Severus, awed by Riddle's aura of power, had summoned up his courage to ask the questions Riddle was making plain he didn't want to answer, when suddenly he had frozen: there had been some sort of intrusion into his mind. He hadn't been able to think much after that. He had left the room and then the luxurious hotel in a cotton-legged daze and gone home. He had been so far out of it that he hadn't even noticed that the walls had remained white, instead of adapting to his mood.

That had been two weeks earlier and now Snape had a hard time concentrating. The box from Riddle contained ordinary lovex and Severus suspected that the other one must have contained Bliss, and that his blank state of mind must be a challenge. It seemed that he had to deserve his dose of Bliss, although he couldn't quite figure out how being brain-dead like Narcissa was a reward, rather than a punishment. He had decided to try the "octopus" on her.

He set up the contraption and opened the quartz lid on the alabaster case that he "kept" Narcissa in. He rubbed his eyes. He had just seen a flash of her in a long black garment. He focused on her face to keep his concentration from lapsing further. As he made to touch her, he paused. There was something static about her features. He placed his hand just milimetres over her neck. There was no body heat. He lowered his hand to her breast and gently placed it where he knew her heart should be and recoiled: she seemed to be made of stone. He felt her cheek, hoping the flesh might give way under his touch, but here too he was met by the strangest feeling: it was like touching hard wax through a layer of fine leather. He thought that if he warmed her she might "melt". He went to the bathroom and soaked a towel in hot water. As soon as he entered Narcissa's room, he knew that something was amiss. He went up to the coffin and found it empty. He shuddered and buried his face in the hot towel, to assure himself that he was really conscious. He looked at the coffin again and then, ever practical, switched the power off.

'That should make my electricity bills less of a nightmare.' He mumbled to himself.

An hour and a glass of wine later, Severus left his flat. It was a rainy, dark evening and he didn't much like bad weather, but it was worth venturing out: he had decided that sensory stimuli were the best way to stay calm and keep his mind from drifting. He was on his way the his usual delicatessen, watching the bent shapes of other men heading in the same direction as him, though doubtless on their way to other pleasures of the flesh. His regular trips to this delicatessen, which was located in the red-light district had made Severus accustomed to guilty-looking individuals in search of a prostitute or a decent peep-show. Now he registered how, they looked somehow dazed. He paused to look at his reflection in the window of a darkened storefront. There he was, skinny, hook-nosed and dark, his eyes sunken into grayish-looking, deep-set eye sockets. Yet his expression and bearing, he noticed with some satisfaction, bore dignity, which these desperate men did not.

A block away from his destination, something caught his eye: a new strip joint had opened and the stage was clearly visible through a floor-to-ceiling window-pane. He stood there for a while, watching the gyrating hips of the barely clad strumpet, read the price list 'how shameless' which was set in a case, like a menu in front of a fancy restaurant, and then went on. He felt pride at the fact that the woman on display had not affected him.

A little later Severus left the deli, laden with all sorts of expensive ingredients: a black truffle, a white truffle, tropical ginger, Mexican chillies, garlic from the south of Italy, snails, wild-boar meat, grilled eel, astringent shiso-leaves, chestnut flour, ground bitter almonds, a beet so dark it was almost black, tagliatelle made from the finest French flour, wine from Australia and absinthe from a place the shop-owner had said was called the Crooked Valley, somewhere in the mountains of Switzerland. He had bought everything that looked good to him, spending two months' pay in one desperate spree. He felt somewhat ashamed for having judged the lechers on their way to the brothels, once he had reflected on his own sin of choice was gluttony. He turned the corner at the end of the block and glanced in at the stage where a brunette, this time, was slowly succeeding in the feat of gliding down the pole and discarding her g-string from the end of her foot simultaneously and froze. There, among the faces looking hungrily up at her, was that of one Remus Lupin.


End file.
